My sophomore year of college I was living in our fraternity house and one of my brothers had a few friends in town. We went to the bars, and I remember buying his one friend “Kellie” a few washington apples, which made her extremely excited considering the fact she was underage and it was the first time she was ever in a bar.

Needless to say, when we got back to the fraternity house, we went up to my room to grab a bottle and I turned around and she jumped on me. She pulls down my pants and starts blowing on my member like she needs it in order to live. While she was on top of me riding, my door got kicked in and all of my fraternity brothers came charging in. The best part is, the girl didn't stop and just kept riding me. During this I was so wasted I kept having my fraternity brothers come over and give me high fives and handshakes.

After a while everyone got their fill of the show and went downstairs back to the party. While Kellie and I kept going at it. Eventually she bends over on my bed and puts her fingers in her ass and tells me that's where she wants it. I immediately get excited and jump up but I was drunk I lost my balance and fell splitting my head open. I got up and just ignored the blood and continued to bang her out. After we were all finished up I promised her I would go somewhere with her the next day.

So the morning rolls around and she wakes up and tells me she'll see me later, I ask where I need to go and she gives me directions to the funeral home. To go to her mother's funeral. I man up and keep my word and show up to her mother's funeral and I'm shaking hands with her dad thinking ” I've spent more time inside your daughter than I have actually getting to know her.” This would not be the last I would see of Kellie, as she banged out several of my other fraternity brothers. Some time has passed and we have since learned she was on January's issue of Hustler's “Best of Beaver Hunt” Anyways, to find her interview or the cover of it just google search Kellie Hustler's beaver hunt, I just felt I couldn't keep something this hilarious to just my fraternity brothers and I.

Of course, I looked her up. And she looks as dirty (if not a thousand times dirtier) as she sounds. Good for her.

This next one came titled as “Angry White Dragon.”

My friends make me share this story all the time, so might as well post it for the Bros.

It was my sophomore year of high school (about four years ago) and I barely knew sh*t about blow jobs, hand jobs, rimjobs, etc. and I only scraped the surface of sex, still only then have had sex ½ times (J*zzed my pants…). But none of that mattered, ‘cause I had just met the girl of my sex-dreams. She was a beautiful curvy/busty brunette — short hair, nice C-cup breasts, a fat ass and a tight waist, with a little cute bellybutton ring. I fell in lust for this girl, and found myself surprised that she also had a thing for me, so I made whatever moves I had back then and asked her out. One thing led to another, and we were sexting, making out behind the bleachers, and even got my first handy at the movies. Things started getting hot pretty between us very fast and I needed a place to f*ck her. She had strict ass parents, and since I was a sophomore, I didn’t have a car yet, or [barely] any friends with cars, and no house to f*ck her – none of these factors helped. So what did we turn to? A classroom of course.

She decided to convince one of her teachers to let us stay after school to do a project, and the teacher agreed. We stayed in this classroom, and while hidden behind the computers she started reaching for my d**k. But I told her to hang on, at least until the teacher left. And finally when the teacher left about 15 minutes after, we finally got our thing on. I searched for a place to f*ck while trying to make out with her, and found a nice long table inside of a walk-in closet. I sat my happy ass on it, and that was when she asked if I wanted a blowjob, biting her lip. Sure, never have had one before, and how could I deny one anyway? So she starts going at it, starting nice & slow, and it was GREAT. I never bothered asking how many guys she’s been with, but I knew she’s had practice. Now at the time, I’d never been blown before, so I had no idea what I was supposed to do – do I let her know, or take it out, or just ask her what she wants me to do? Whatever it was, I had no time to ask nor did I give a sh*t. And right when she decided to deepthroat me, that’s when it happened – I came as hard as I could in the back of her mouth. She turned away and started coughing her brains out. And when she turned around, her mucus/boogers and my j*zz was flowing out of her nose and all over her upper lip and mouth, with a face so pissed she turned red.

She sprinted out of the closet, out of the room, and ran right into a janitor. She walked quickly into the bathroom, and that’s when I thought it was a perfect time to dip. As I was running out, the janitor yelled at me and said, “¡No sé lo que hiciste allí, pero es mejor que si no sé!” Which translates to, “I don’t know what you did in there, but it’s better if I don’t.” I kept running down the hall and waited frantically outside in the parking lot until my mom came and picked me up. I didn’t say sh*t in the car, but I laughed my ass off when I got home.

A couple of weeks later, I was browsing UrbanDictionary.com and found out that I had done a variation of something called an “Angry White Dragon”. I had accomplished something great that day – I defeated a dragon.

Absolutely love that.

So this story took place a couple years ago during/after my Company holiday party. I work in finance, so after the recession, the holiday party consisted of a nice lunch with unlimited beer and wine in the office and then a bunch of us going to a bar at about 4pm. Given that I work in finance, the quantity and quality of the girls I work with was limited; therefore, I was content with just getting sh*tcanned with some of my work buddies.

Anyway after the party we end up at some bar and a couple of the secretaries came too. I'm hammered and begin ripping some girly shots with the secretaries, one of which is 30 years old and happens to have massive jugs tells me she thinks I'm the second hottest guy in the office. I'm pretty hammered so I don't know what to make of it. Anyway, I leave her to go chill with some of my work Bros at another area of the bar.

Next thing I know, the office dork is trying to work game on this secretary; not wanting to be outdone by some nerd, I swoop back in and begin making out with the secretary, who we will name Lauren. Lauren tells me she has to pick up her 1-year-old daughter and asks if I want to come along. (Yes, she has a daughter out of wedlock, classy I know.) I say yes and we grab a cab to her house. We immediately start going at it in the cab and before I know it, she is unbuttoning my pants and giving me a blow job in the back of the cab. Before I could blow my load, the cab driver pulls over the cab and kicks us out. Luckily, we are able to find another cab quickly that is able to take us to where her car is parked so we can go pick up her daughter.

At this point I have insane blue balls, but she assures me it will be worth it. We pick up her daughter from her babysitter and she drunk drives us all back to her apartment. I figure we will put the kid to bed and get it on; but instead we have to drunkingly play with the kid for what seemed like an eternity. Finally the kid got tired and Lauren put her to bed. She came back to living room and immediately we started going at it. She got completely naked and confirmed that her huge breasts were 100% fake. She got back to blowing me and gave me one of the best bjs I've ever had. I busted all over her chest.

But it didn't end there, being a young buck at the time, I was able to recharge real fast and before I knew it we were going at it again. This time she decides we're going to f*ck and who was I to complain; she leads me to her bedroom, which is directly next to her daughter's room and hands me a condom from her drawer. We begin f*cking and this girl is just plain loud, her daughter probably thought I was killing her. Anyway, we were drunk and for some reason the condom didn't stay on my dick for long. She gets on top and rides me like it was the last dick she would ever ride. I end up finishing inside of her assuming she is on the pill. Of course, she is not. I freak out, this girl obviously is super fertile, given that she has an accident baby. So the story ends with her driving me and the baby to CVS the next morning so she could get the morning after pill; alas things were a bit awkward at the office between us on Monday morning.

A lot of people tend to ask (in not as polite terms) why, as a chick, I opt to write for Brobible. Clearly, I’m not a bro (small as my tits may be). And I get it – it can be annoying when you have the girls who want to be “one of the guys” and just end up looking like a slutty moron that thinks knowing who Tim Tebow is makes her one of the boys. But that’s not me.

I f*ck around a lot, but it’s not because I have self esteem issues or want guys to like me. I don’t take my clothes off for approval, I take my clothes off because I’m damn f*cking proud of what’s underneath. I drink beer rarely wine, and I know more about baseball and hockey than most girls know about shoes. And I write for Brobible because a lot of my stories, they’re not quite the “Sex and the City” diatribes most girls refer to. I laugh at myself and the sh*t I get into too often to be a prima donna.

You can think whatever you like, but at the end of day, I like to think there’s a little Bro underneath the makeup and pashminas. And whether it comes out in my inability to ever turn down a baseball stat argument with a Red Sox (and now Marlins) fan, my ability to not puke after fifteen beers and four shots of Jameson until at least the next morning, or the fact that I like sex because it’s sex and not because it’s love, I can’t help but feel even the snobbiest of Bros might agree that while I’m not exactly Bryce Harper, I’m not exactly Carrie Bradshaw either.

So when I decided to submit a story to Hookup Heroes, I can’t lie and say I wasn’t a little nervous. Because apparently as a girl, the want to just have sex because it feels good, doesn’t exist. We all have ulterior motives. And having that mental moment right before you bang of “this is going to be the funniest story ever when I stop throwing up tomorrow,” it’s not something that girls are allowed to think. Welp, I’m here to prove you wrong. Call me a slut, call me a braggart, call me a fame whore, all I know is the story I’m about to tell you was one of the most epically funny hookups I’ve ever had, and trust me it had nothing to do with love or approval. While I make it a point not to name drop on my blog, I can’t lie and say this isn’t a kind of obvious give away, even without the name. But for the record, this story evolved long before his fame or outward expression of love for puppetiering ever came to light. But if my sister sends me one more picture of a f*cking puppet I might crack.

If you read my blog or book, the one thing you’ll probably take away from it (other than the fact that I’m absolutely shameless) is that I love athletes. A lot of people ask why I never got into actors. Why not try and push my way into B list actors (or rather, let them push their way into me) and get on that whole scene? It's all the same spotlight, right?

Sure, I'll buy that. More money, more fame, at times better longevity of career. But then there are also puppets. And I got the f*cking puppets.

I was in LA with my best friend just about two years ago. Two months previous, I had been in Paris for some work and ended up at a club where no one spoke English and I was the shortest woman there by easily four inches. I scammed my ass into the VIP section, where I was lying about being an FHM model in Paris for work. Please don't ask me why people believed it, seriously, I guess it’s easier to buy that sh*t than to say, “really? FHM?” Best you can do?”

I'm standing in the back of the bar, scanning the scene like a total shady person on my own, and I see this guy. He looks super familiar. I'm texting my buddy, Karl, and I'm like, “yo, I think the guy from (this movie) is standing in front of me and looking at me…but I don't want to talk to him, because if it's not him, he's not attractive enough to banter with.”

Lo and behold, I hear him speak and I'm 100% sure it's the dude from this movie. I bust my way over and walk right up to him, because I apparently can do anything when I can’t understand a word that’s being spoken around me.

“Hey, you're (dude's name), right?”

“Yeah,” he's totally stoked I came up to him. He's smoking, which is gross. Bros, don’t smoke, it’s nasty.

We start bullsh*tting, he tells me I look beautiful (everyone at this shindig is in like 800 dollar designer dresses and suits, I'm wearing this hideous floral dress that was on sale for 45$ at Abercrombie that I dressed up with a good belt), we exchange numbers. Like most drunk girls, I kind of forget I gave him my number assuming I’d probably never hear from him again. But forget Stef Williams, he did not. Clearly I resonate with the weirdos of the world. God forbid it be, I don’t know, Brian Boyle or C.J. Wilson (working on it). I was surprised to find out he Google searched me later that night (apparently women aren’t the only ones who Google stalk), texts me and compliments me on my writing. Obviously he was Googling me to see if he could find the FHM photos that clearly DO NOT EXIST. Glad he came across my old musings about abortion rallies on campus from the University of Maryland student newspaper though!

Two months later, I'm in LA. Easily the second most bender vacation I've ever had in my life. My friend and I were basically famous in our own minds for five days. We were staying at The Roosevelt and hit up Teddy's the last night we were there. We were at like, the shadiest f*cking d-list table ever. Cedric the Entertainer, Chris Evans (before he was “famous”, he’s a Redsox fan, had some fun with that) one of the dudes from Puddle of Mudd (that's a band, apparently), the chick who had a sex tape with Collin Farrell…yeah, we had VH1 on speed dial that night.

I get a text later in the night as my best friend is chatting up Cedric the Entertainer (never thought that sentence would come from my mouth), from actor, asking if I wanted to come over. I looked at my buddy, she gave me the thumbs up, I begged her not to bring Cedric back to our shared roomed, and headed to grab a cab.

I'll give him credit, his house is amazing. Highlight of the evening was the sound system and décor. That’s the chick in me. But as I sit down on the couch, cross my legs like a lady, I look to my left and notice this stuffed animal. A puppet. “What. The. F*ck?” I’m trying not to stare at it, trying to listen to him as we talked about writing and the feeling of when you see “the end” at the end of a project. But since I’m already pretty buzzed, with no trepidation but rather a level of arrogance that should not be coming from a chick who had just left a table that looked like a dinner party for season 4 of Celebrity Rehab, we being to literally insult each other for 45 minutes. At one point he told me I was “one of the biggest a**holes he'd ever met” and that he was “seriously thinking about asking me to leave”. To which I responded, “dude, you're in baby blue velour pants and I'm sitting next to a puppet. Go for it.”

Obviously we hooked up. I kept saying “this’ll be a funny f*cking story in the morning, just go with it”. There are puppets in his room. On his desk. I couldn’t stop looking at them while we were hooking up (with his lifestyle condoms. Like, dude has millions of dollars and a mansion and a fountain and he uses the equivalent of free-clinic electric yellow condoms. Totally legit). I remember thinking “am I so drunk I am imagining these things, or are they really there?”

I left his house at 8 in the morning. He called 411 for the cab from my phone. Didn't walk me out. Nothing better than that a**hole after-f*ck routine, but at that point I was so traumatized and hung over that I just wanted to get the f*ck out of the house. As I left I saw a room on the second floor landing. I stopped dead, holding my heels in my hand, and stared.

Puppets. EVERYWHERE. Like, an entire “playroom” dedicated to puppets.

When the f*ck did I sign on to be in a made for TV movie based on a STEPHEN KING NOVEL?! Like, holy f*cking Return of the Puppet Master, I'm in an episode of “Are You Afraid of the Dark.” These little b*tches are going to chase me out of his house with butcher knives in like, five seconds. Someone's going to find my body in a dumpster strangled with marionette strings. I just wanted to get laid for Christ’s sake, have a funny story from my first trip to LA and here I was navigating my way through some kind of R.L. Stein book from 1994. Awesome.

I busted my way out to the front of his house shoeless, got in the cab and said “don’t ask just take me home.” Had one of those “haven’t seen daylight in five days” looks on my face, I’m sure. I crawled into my hotel room to find my best friend puking in her bra and skirt, but thankfully no naked Cedric the Entertainer, which I guess we can consider the small victory of the evening.

And that has since turned me off actors. If Justin Chatwin or Channing Tatum (there’s the serious chick in me) were blowing up my phone, I’d be all about it. But I've got the whole “f*ck him because he's famous” thing out of my system, and I don’t know how women can do it more than once (I barely made it through). I have my one story, and it's pretty f*cking unique, and for now, I'll stick to embarrassing my ass with athletes who have hockey sticks and shin guards in their bedrooms, not Kermit the f*cking Frog replicas.

Check back on Wednesday for another edition of Hook Up Heroes and submit your stories here.

About J. Camm...
J. Camm is the Managing Editor of BroBible. He is a graduate of the University of Miami thanks mostly in part to a world-class short-term memory. When not writing drivel on the Internet, J.Camm enjoys golf and the inexplicable satisfaction that comes with forgetting a person's name the exact instant he meets them.